Like a tunnel that you follow
by Vidicon666
Summary: Buffy enters the depths of the Womble burrow to deal with the dangers lurking below.
1. Little Slayer lost

**Author's note:**

**This story contains references (again) to HM Queen, Elizabeth II of Great Britain and the Commonwealth. **

**It should be quite clear by now that this is an AU and that I'm completely ignoring the so called season 8 and onwards as published in Comics. Certi sunt denique fines. **

**Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon **

**The Famous Five are the creation of Enid Blyton**

**The Wombles are the creation and property of Elisabeth Beresford**

**A lot of the metaphysics behind the way in which Slayers function as a group I've lifted from ACS's **_**Portal girl and the Science lady**_** who's kindly given me permission to use it. (But pointed out it might not be original.) Anyway, my thanks.**

**This is the fourth instalment in this series, and the Wombles are back! **

_Like a tunnel that you follow_

It was large building, imposing looking, a rebuilt version of an older Georgian construction that had been almost completely destroyed by an explosion. The new version looked like its predecessor, but Wellington, through his contacts in town planning knew that it incorporated much more modern construction techniques, that it could stand up against five times the amount of explosions that had destroyed the former one and still be no more than superficially damaged.

Wellington Womble was not easily frightened these days, but the situation was getting serious. The Wombles needed help. He took a deep breath and walked into the building, noting the Latin motto over the door. _Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?_ Who guards those selfsame guardians... Or who watches the watchers? How very appropriate.

There were three young women in the hall and several young men in uniforms. It was obvious to the Womble who the more dangerous occupants were. He went to the front desk and cleared his throat.

"Good morning...my name is Wellington Womble...and I need to speak to Dr. Giles or another person in authority. It is a matter of some urgency."

"I assume you have no appointment?" The young woman behind the counter was slim, brunette and gorgeous but she hardly registered on Wellington's mind. Wombles held different standards of beauty after all.

"I'm afraid not, but it is urgent and he does know me."

"Just a minute please."

Just then the door opened and two young women came in. The second tallest, for she could not be called short, of them was a well built brunette with golden tinges in her hair. She was walking next to the tallest, a long legged svelte black haired beauty with dark brown eyes and a sun bronzed skin. Her hair was cut quite short but still her loose black curls enchantingly framed her spare oval face.

"Look George, I realise things were different in the forties but you no longer need just a few pairs of trousers. You need some things to make you feel pretty."

"I see no reason to be pretty. _Boys_ don't have to look pretty."

"George...you won the equality wars ok? There's a bloody _chapter_ on you in the feminist history books...you can dress up and be a girl!"

"What if I don't want to?"

"Look, I'm sure you'll feel better about dresses once you've got a couple of pretty ones..."

"I see no reason to own any whatsoever."

"What about underwear that's not tighty whities?"

"What I wear is comfortable."

"Yeah but hardly boyfriend snaring material."

George glared down at the shorter girl. "Why is everyone so utterly intent on getting me a boyfriend? My mother has been dropping hints like billy-o about grandchildren and Julian and Dick have been talking about propagating uncle Quentin's genes, whatever _they_ are, as if I'm some sort of...race horse!"

Dawn sighed. "Look...I know all this is new for you...but you don't have to fight everything anymore...we have your back."

George looked at her as if she'd grown wings. Dawn sighed again. "I mean we're here to help you."

"Ah." She turned towards the counter, taking in the small man in the furry overcoat and the neat hat and briefcase and blinked. Not a man. Not an overcoat. She took a step towards it and sniffed. She'd smelled something similar in Hyde Park.

"A Womble? How may we help you sir?"

The Womble made a bow. "Wellington Womble, Miss...At your service...I need to speak to Dr Giles about a matter of some urgency."

Dawn grinned. "You're the Womble archivist! I'm Dawn Summers, I'm the Council's Chief Archivist, or at least I'll be once I've finished college."

"Indeed? I look forward to working with you. Have you ever read Stow's _Secret Survey of London_? "

George coughed. Buffy had warned her about Dawn's tendency to veer off into tangents of research. Apparently it was an occupational hazard. "I assume you're here with a reason Mr. Womble? Other than speaking about ancient texts?"

Wellington nodded vigorously. "Indeed I am. I wanted to discuss the matter with Dr. Giles…"

Dawn nodded. "We'll take you up. Kathy, thanks."

Kathy had been looking at George with a very intent expression and blushed. "Sure thing Miss Summers."

George squirmed before striding away to the elevator leading the others. They exited on the 9th floor, the Executive level of the Council building. Most of the old one had been filled with records and the intention was that the new one would be as well. As of yet the main archives were still in a hidden location in Cornwall.

A young Slayer stared when George walked by. George flinched under her gaze and scooted into the Executive offices. Meredith looked up and then down quickly. "You may walk right in Miss Kirrin, Dawn."

Giles rose as the three entered. "Dawn, Miss Kirrin, Mr. Womble, what an unexpected surprise. How may I help you? Have a seat. Can I offer you tea?"

Wellington sat in a comfortable leather armchair, his short legs dangling, and then moved back so only his feet were off the seat. "Tea please, no sugar or milk but a dash of lemon."

Giles set water to boil in his little kitchenette and filled a tea egg with loose tea. George sat in a corner of the room while Dawn faced Wellington with curiosity on her face.

Giles turned. "I assume you're here with a reason Mr. Wellington. So let us get to it."

Wellington took a deep breath. "About twenty five years ago we had to abandon our Burrow on Wimbledon Common because of the noise and vibrations caused by the local traffic and some of us moved into a deeper burrow on the Common while others, most of us, moved into a large Burrow in Hyde Park. The latter had been abandoned for many years, centuries. It had obviously been long in use. We never found out why it had been abandoned…until recently."

A knock at the door interrupted the tale and a young Slayer brought in a box of confectionery. She put the box down and looked at George. Giles cleared his throat and the girl moved backwards out of the room, her eyes never leaving George, not even when she stumbled over the sill. George shrank in on herself.

Wellington continued, bemused by the by play. "About two months ago my cousins Bungo, Alderney and Orinoco while investigating a draught in one of the chambers on the lower level came upon a bricked in door set with certain signs and runes." Wellington opened his briefcase and retrieved a small sheaf of papers. "I reconstructed them as best I could…I'm no expert but to me these look like protective seals."

He handed the papers to Giles and Dawn. Giles nodded thoughtfully. "Standard protective seals…modifications of Ogham as well as Futhark… Dawn?"

"I think some of these may be Sumerian in origin, but again they're just a bit different."

Wellington sighed. "We think they were made by a Womble…and since Wombles aren't human the basic form would have to be different."

Giles leaned forward. "A Womble magic user? Is that common?"

"Most of our magic is innate…we have talents at hiding and obscuring which are useful, camouflage and such…demon summoning, wards and portals, much less so."

"And you don't know why the seals were set?"

"My cousins have no knowledge of magic, even the little magic we do use, mostly only our Elders practice…and we can't ask them…because they are missing."

"Missing?"

"Yes. All three of my cousins are missing…as well as several others, including Madame Cholet and Great Grand Uncle Bulgaria… We…are not equipped with dealing with such matters and were hoping that you'd be willing to help us?"

"By all means, I will assign a Slayer…"

There was a knock and Giles looked up, disturbed. "Enter."

A young Slayer, no more than fifteen entered carrying a brief. "The Connemara case sir…"

"There was no hurry about that Fleur…" Giles noted the intent gaze the girl turned on George. The older slayer rose, walked past the younger one and left, slamming the door behind her. There was a second thud as something struck it. Giles gave the young Slayer an angry glare. "Fleur…"

Fleur blushed and looked close to tears. "I'm sorry sir, it's just…"

Giles let out a deep sigh. "Fleur…please let the others know…again…that it is impolite to stare."

Fleur nodded and ran off.

"Mr Womble…I'll be sending a team to investigate. If you would meet them tonight at Hyde Park Corner? You can inform the team of the further specifics there."

"I will be there. Thank you."

"Dawn, would you be so kind as to show Mr. Wellington out?"

Dawn nodded. "Of course. Why don't I get some particulars of the case…"

Giles smiled. "Very well Dawn. Mr Wellington, Miss Summers will be part of the team. Will she do as a liaison?"

Wellington nodded, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "That will be fine."

Giles let them out and looked at Meredith. His secretary sighed. "She just ran out, she didn't say anything where she would be and…" She held up a badly broken mobile phone. "She threw this at the door."

Giles looked over his shoulder and noted that one of the panels was badly dented. He took of his glasses and his handkerchief and started polishing. "Oh dear…Meredith…would you call Buffy please?"

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Buffy Summers was packing a suitcase for a trip to Scotland with the door to the sitting room open. Admittedly Scotland in November was not an ideal holiday location but as Willow pointed out this meant more time spent indoors. They expected the Insleyfarn matter to take a day at most and the rest of the two weeks would be spent in Edinburgh and Glasgow dealing with minor vampire infestations and then shopping and exploration.

The local Slayers had had an embarrassing run in with a Cat Sìth which had diminished the respect in which they were held by local demons and vampires. Being given the run around by a mischievous housecat and respect were not mixy things. The Cat Sìth had even got away. That was another matter that needed to be addressed.

Willow was searching through colour swathes and types; she wanted to look at soft furnishing materials in Scotland so that the two of them could fit their new apartment in a suitable style. She was already packed, as always being more organized than her girlfriend._ Girlfriend_… The relationship was new enough to make both of them giggle and tingle at the term.

They'd asked Giles to assign them a three bedroom apartment, a bedroom for each of them for now and a magic room for Willow, though they had noticed they slept better when they shared a bed. Buffy had a deep seated need to be near Willow and Willow felt safer near Buffy.

There was a knock at the door and Xander came in carrying his personal tools. Though now the Head of Operations he still liked working with his hands and insisted on doing most of the work on their apartment personally.

"Heya Wills. No Buff Buffster?" He winked and looked ridiculously disappointed.

Both women groaned. Dawn had been unable, and unwilling, to hide the manner in which she had discovered their relationship. At least she'd limited herself to telling Giles and Xander. So far. Xander grinned, well pleased with their reaction.

"So, how goes the planning for the trip?"

"Well I've got most of the bigger shops I think we should visit down and Buffy's agreed to visit Glasgow to see Rennie Mackintosh's work, 'cause I think it'd look really good for the living room and she says I totally need to do my room in William Morris design and she would look completely gorgeous in a pre Raphaelite dress, but that's not the point, and I want to visit the Willow tearooms and Buffy thinks that Art Nouveau is neat and she wants it for the hall as well but I think that may be a bit much…"

Xander grinned. Willow had been babbling her happiness for a week now. In his long experience Willow babbled more when she was happy than at any other time and it had been a long time since she'd been this happy which meant an almost constant stream of babble. He loved it.

"No of course not. I meant getting the accent down. You can't walk around Scotland without sounding like Scotty!"

A pillow from Buffy's bedroom hit him dead centre on the forehead.

"Is there a reason you're here Xander?" Buffy stuck her head around the doorjamb looking like a fierce blonde angel.

"Just dropping of the ole toolbox. I'll be working on the rougher bits we discussed while you're gone so you and Wills can start work on the soft furnishings. I brought some sketches and colour schemes you should both like." He dug in his tool kit and brought out a folder which he handed to Willow. Buffy joined her on the couch. The girls looked at the drawings. Willow's eyes widened and then she looked up.

"These are dated two days after I broke up with Kennedy!"

"Well I didn't know Buff was doing the Honey trap thing with the Immortal…but I did hope she'd come to her senses and then you'd both come to your senses." The one eyed man shrugged.

The girls exchanged looks. They rose and hugged Xander tightly. "Xander Harris…you're one of a kind…for which I suppose we should be glad…"

Xander smiled widely, hugging both of them back. "What can I say? I notice things." Willow smacked him lightly on the back of his head.

"Twerp."

Xander grinned again. "So if you two love nest building love birds are ready for me to work on your bower, you'll let me know?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Buffy and Willow both lightly tapped his head at the same time. "Ow!"

"Double twerp."

Buffy's mobile went. "Y'hello?"

"Miss Summers? Dr Giles needs to speak to you, it's urgent, I'll put him on."

"Buffy? This is Giles?"

"Giles? What's wrong?"

"It's George…the girls have been staring at her…again…and she's run off, without her phone."

"Oh damn. I'll try and find her…Giles?"

"Yes?"

"Go kick Andrew for me…"

"Most certainly. Buffy…be careful, and please hurry…"

"Don't worry Giles, in this case I'll have Willow cast a locator spell."

"Where do you get the personal item? You can't break down her door…what little trust she has in us would be lost."

"I gathered up a few good chunks of hair when she went to the hairdresser."

"Sneaky."

"I've learned from the best. We'll find her Giles, don't worry."

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Buffy walked quickly. The tall, slim figure was sitting on the railing of the bridge in away that worried her.

"Go away Buffy."

"No. We don't leave our sisters when they're hurting."

George laughed, bitterly. "Sisters? Is that why they all look at me as if I'm a freak? I thought I'd get at least a little acceptance…"

Buffy hopped onto the rail beside the other girl tactfully ignoring the tear tracks down her face.

"Yah…that's partly 'cause of Andrew…"

"Andrew? The guy in charge of Demon recognition? What the Hell has he got to do with anything?"

"Well he's part of the Archive staff…and he went to the Deep archives, you know the ones in the mine? And he dug around for everything the Old Council had on you."

"Oh lovely…so all my crimes have been help up to the light? The blood on my hands?"

"You broke the legs and arms of those men George…they all survived…and regrettably lived to kill two other slayers. No blood on your hands."

"Kittbridge-Johnson died." Buffy could hear the girl's voice breaking as she mentioned her watcher.

"You just broke his jaw and four ribs." *And kicked him in the nuts hard enough to make him sing soprano for the rest of his life, however short that might have been…* Buffy though to herself very quietly. "The Council killed him and put the blame on you."

George stiffened. "How the hell do you know all this?"

"Well they wrote everything down."

"So why do they all look at me as if I've got three heads?"

Buffy snorted. "Remember when I told you about the pecking order?"

"Yes..."

"Okay…first, we're not used to having other Slayers about, so there's this whole Queen Bee thing with the younger ones, they establish the order by kicking butt on the exercise mat and killing stuff. The older you are, the more experience, the higher your standing is. Number of Apocalypses successfully prevented and with what back up. You served in Sunnydale or fought the First, you get extra credit, like the Medal of Honour or something. A Victoria Cross if you're a Brit."

George smiled in spite of her black mood. "Yes, strength, skill and experience equal standing. We covered this before."

"Yeah, bear with me. Okay, Faith: She was called in 1998…went dark for a bit, we all know that. She's tough, very tactically sound, an excellent leader, fought in the Battle of Sunnydale. Very strong, we think that the Chosen Slayers are all stronger than the Awakened ones…we won't know that until and if someone gets called when Faith dies, which we hope won't be for a long time…"

George nodded. "Yeah…you can tell the difference?"

"Willow can…I think I can too, now that there's two of you for me to sense…We'll see if you and Faith can pick it up as well. But anyway…I'm top dog…lots of experience, been dead and the Line was Awakened through me, we don't know how that affects things but they get really weird around Dawn."

"She smells like you a lot…more than any sister I know."

"Another thing, your Slayer senses are really, really scary…your hearing and smell are way of the scale even for one of us. So that's probably your special. Like Faith's Sensing things and Vi's speed."

"Hmmmm…I see."

"But to get back to the point…you…You were called when you were just fifteen and you served for three years with and almost eight months without a Watcher. Also Andrew compiled a list of the things you killed and did. Two apocalypses averted; that guy who wanted to open the closed gate under Stonehenge…"

"Crowley…yes. Annoying guy. He had those weird tentacle demons with that yellow mucous. It took Annie _ages_ to devise something to get it out of our hair."

"And then there was the girl who opened the Blood gate in the Tower using the dug up body of Anne Boleyn…"

"That was hardly an apocalypse, she was _completely_ ineffectual. All she had were a couple dozen fledglings and that thing that I pushed of Big Ben."

"Couple dozen fledglings…yeah. Which you took on alone. We think the thing on Big Ben was a Surtsey demon by the way…at any rate those apocalypses, the Hag of the Mists in Wales, the Beast of Bodmin, the Dullahan of Kent, the Grey Monk of Rievaulx, that guy who called himself the Son of Dracula, Slaying Queen Cordelia, the thing you did with burying the mermaid of Padstow and the strangling of the Black Dwarf of Islay…And that Turok Han you took down in the ruins of Amesbury."

"I-I almost forgot some of those…and _that_ was a Turok Han? You took on an _army _of those things?" George lifted her shirt, looking at a vicious scar on her abdomen and shuddered. "Thing almost got me too…"

"Yes. Almost... George…you're not only way up there…" Buffy waved her hand above her head. "To most of those girls…Faith thinks that way about you as well. That makes you number two."

Buffy took a deep breath. "They don't stare at you because they hate you George…they do it because they stand in awe of you."

"Oh…" The younger girl seemed shocked by the notion.

"George…When I did my Cruciamentum…I almost kicked out Giles and told the Council to go stuff themselves…but was too scared…too many tales of Slayers failing without their Watchers or the Council…"

"I was terrified as well…it was mostly my temper…" George shrugged, looking embarrassed.

"Whatever the reason…you did it. And well…Faith and me…we're very glad to have you…we all are."

"Can you get them to stop staring at me?" George sounded plaintive.

Buffy grinned. "Well not the gay ones. You got legs all the way up to that firm round ass girl. "

"BUFFY!" George blushed furiously.

Buffy almost fell of the bridge with laughter. "Thought you'd gotten used to that what with Anne and Susan making out at the Ball…"

"Not to mention the fact you almost buried your face in Willow's cleavage…" George added nastily, still blushing.

"Hey, it's not my fault someone spiked the cider!" Buffy flushed.

"You weren't drunk. At least not on alcohol."

Buffy flushed. "What, you kept track of what I drank?"

George tapped her nose. "No…I didn't smell any alcohol. Just… other things. You two were almost as bad as Anne and Susan." The blush on George's face had travelled down her neck and Buffy was sure covered her from head to toe. George might have known about such things, discussing them this freely was still new to her.

"Only almost? Holy…" Buffy swallowed audibly, suddenly very hot.

"Yeah…" George somersaulted onto the bridge deck, the hood of her jacket flapping. "I need to kill something. Is there _anything_ to do in London these days?"

"Well…Wills wants to see that Womble burrow. Dawn has been gushing about that Wellington guy… So I volunteered to go check…we could do with another Slayer…with more experience than Heidi."

"Heidi? The little blonde who should be labouring under permanent back pains?"

Buffy sniggered. "Yeah. Faith's made a book on when she'll knock herself out…"

George rolled her eyes. "Oh, very well. It's probably the only thing to do in London right now. Even the docks had no vamps. The docks always had vamps!" She whined plaintively. Not that George Kirin would ever admit to whining.

Buffy grinned. "Slayer central now George…or one of them at least. C'mon lets go…Will's been aching to get underground."

"Well let's go then…wouldn't want to keep your little witch waiting. I thought you were going to Scotland?"

"Snowstorm. And you. We won't miss much…"

"Oh…thanks…"

"You're welcome."

The two broke into an easy run that no normal human could have matched. They weren't even breathing hard when they arrived at Hyde Park Corner. There were three persons waiting there. George's sensitive nose recognized Willow, Dawn and Heidi.

"Dawn? What are you doing here?"

George grinned. She didn't know how Buffy had known it was her sister, but her tone of voice made her displeasure clear.

"Heya Buff…"

"Dawn…we agreed that you'd stay away until we gave the all clear…"

Dawn sniffed. "No, you decided."

"With good reason! You never get through these things without me having to rescue you at least once. And last time you vomited on my shoes."

"I can't help it that possessed merry go round went so fast!"

"You could not have gotten on the stupid thing in the first place!"

"But it was a merry go round!" Dawn whined.

"You'll stay here! Or at the very least in the safe part of the Burrow. If the Wombles don't lock you up."

There was a polite cough. Wellington Womble stepped from the shadows and bowed politely. "That won't be needed. I'm certain Miss Summers will be quite happy in our library. No need for her to go into the deeper tunnels."

"But…" Dawn started to protest.

"Dawn! It's that or I'll tell Giles to assign Andrew as your permanent assistant…"

Dawn shut up.


	2. Chapel Royal

_Chapter 2_

Emma Knight sat in the sparsely furnished living room of the small one bedroom apartment she had been assigned in The Building. She had nowhere to go and no money to her name. From one of the richest and most influential women in Britain she had gone down to being an unknown pauper: Emma Knight was dead, so was Emma Peel. She had no existence, no job, no family, no reason for living, or way of paying for it.

She couldn't go back to the family firm, as her second cousin had run it into the ground and the Kirrin Corporation had bought it, lock, stock, barrel and patents. Her friends were old or dead and even if she would be allowed to tell them what had happened to her, most would refuse to believe her. Though to be fair, she wasn't sure she understood it herself. She sighed and looked out of the window at the darkening gloom of the London night and decided to talk a walk through The Building and then take a turn towards the Watcher Headquarters and see if anything was going on that might drag her thoughts away from her depressing situation.

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The great carved door of the Womble Burrow of Hyde Park silently opened, revealing a black clad figure with a crossbow and a two handed sword on his back, standing about five foot high and almost three wide. Tomsk Womble in full battle gear was a rather impressive sight even Buffy had to admit.

He nodded silently and led them down. Wellington padded behind the Slayers, the Witch and the archivist. Dawn was still pouting, but like the others was busy looking around. Buffy was the only one to have visited a Womble burrow before and this one was even more magnificent than the one on Wimbledon Common. The electric lights were shaded by lace doilies and set in ancient iron torch and candle holders. Carved stone and wooden gothic arches held up the ceiling.

The small chamber they finally entered was unpleasantly cold, far colder than the halls leading to it. A musty, dank smell hung in it, obviously coming from the roughly squared off hole in the wall. A door had once filled it, but it had been bricked up and then someone had placed runes on the bricks, plastered them over, placed runes on the plaster and then had sealed of the room itself by blocking the door.

Buffy eyed the security measures and then looked at Wellington. "Did it ever occur to you that someone sealed this place up for a reason?"

"Yes. My cousins probably thought it'd been done due to subsidence or tunnel collapse…we don't deal with the supernatural very often I'm afraid. Only a few of us would've realised that this was not a normal seal. We open collapsed tunnels quite often, construction techniques do advance after all." Wellington replied apologetically.

"But I take it this Bungo and Orinoco weren't among those in the know?"

"They're very experienced travellers and explorers, but as to encounters with the occult, well I don't think they had any really."

Buffy sighed. "And you?"

"I've encountered a few strange things." Wellington smiled.

"And Tomsk here?"

"Tomsk is quite capable."

Buffy eyed the huge sword strapped to the Womble's back, as broad at the hilt as the length of her hand, with respect. Tomsk seemed unimpeded by its weight and moved easily. She had no doubt he could use it, and use it well.

She grinned. "Well then let's head out and do some damage."

She stepped into the opening and shivered. It was a lot colder in the tunnel than in the room and she looked at George just behind her Willow who was followed by Heidi and then Tomsk.

"Cold. Ideas?"

"Ghosts." George shrugged. "Most likely. All the ghosts I met had a cold aura."

"Right. That mesh with you Wills?"

"Ayup. Total matcheroony." Willow's voice was dreamy and distracted.

Buffy turned round to see Willow blush.

"Willow…Were you just checking out our butts?" She asked teasingly.

"Err…just yours?" Willow stammered unconvincingly.

"Perv."

"Aren't you glad!"

George sighed. "Can we pay attention to the matter in hand please? We are entering a tunnel where unknown danger dwells."

"Ohhh…mini Giles-y accent-y and impression of danger-y speech. Cool." Buffy grinned.

George rolled her eyes and muttered. "Dratted Americans."

"Don't let your mother hear you swearing George…"

"My mother isn't here, Summers. And pay attention." George growled.

Buffy stuck her tongue out at the other Slayer. "Yes oh Great Leader."

George sighed and led the group on, her nostrils flaring occasionally as she sniffed the air, her eyes flicking to and fro and her ears almost twitching. Buffy looked at her sister Slayer askance and wondered what the world looked like from her eyes and smelled like through her nose.

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Spike made his way through the corridors of the Council Building whistling to himself and gnawing on a toothpick. Menthol. He sighed and muttered to himself. If it ever came out that Spike, William the Bloody, ensouled or not, was chewing toothpicks because he knew that the lady he wanted to woo was highly opposed to smoking, his bad boy rep would hit the basement. He entered the front office of the Directorate of Operations and then the office of the Director. Xander was at his desk, feet on it, crossed at the ankles and playing a game on an Xbox. "Hey Spike. Grab a chair. There's tea and chocolate and I can get you some pig's blood."

Spike grinned. He'd gotten on much better with the boy of late, but the turn around in their relationship had come three days before when the Nibblett had sat them both down and told then in no uncertain terms to grow up. And then Xander had offered him beer.

"So what's with the toothpicks?"

"Apparently smoking kills." Spike shrugged.

Xander snorted. "You're dead already."

"Yeah well, can't have everything."

"Why are you still here? I'd think you'd be back in LA by now?"

"Naah. I mean, I get to LA and Cheerleader and the Poof would be all over me to take care of the kid while they have a night out or sumthin'"

Xander grinned. "I still can't get my head around the fact that Cordy is so…maternal."

"I admit the tyke is quite cute. But there's a limit to how long and how often Uncle Spike is willing to baby sit. Not to mention the fact that Cordy and The Poof seem determined to try and make a little sibling for the brat."

Xander blinked. "Errr…Come again?"

"Yeah. That's what they do." Spike smirked and Xander threw a ball of paper at him, an amused expression on his face.

"How can they procreate I mean, I thought Connor was a fluke? And with Darla at that?"

"Yeah…that doesn't stop them from tryin'. All the bleedin' time." Spike said dryly and chewed his toothpick.

Xander winced. "Crap, now I've got visuals."

"I got them in Technicolor surround sound back at the Hyperion. At least until I moved into a different room." Spike added helpfully and grinned with glee as the one-eyed man shuddered.

"Thank you for that lovely imagery. What do you think the chances are?"

"I don't know, mate. I mean there's the whole Shansu deal. Maybe the Poof will become human and they'll live happily ever after with their two by four children."

"Two point four Spike." Xander grinned. "Who knows, it may happen. Willow did manage to tie Angel's soul down permanently."

"And the Cheerleader does it on occasion to Angel. You ever into that?" Spike grinned as Xander flushed and glared at him

"Well, if we could overcome that curse, there has to be a simple solution to them having children too." Xander tried to fight down the blush as he spoke. "Maybe even with technology, not magic, they do amazing things with DNA these days."

"Yeah, well, I don't think things would be as simple as that. Never is for us, is it. Never." The vampire looked morosely at the battered toothpick, threw it in Xander's waste bin and dug a packet of new ones out of his pocket, took one out and stuck it in his mouth.

"George can't stand the smell of cigarettes, can she?" Xander asked.

Spike closed his yes and bit down on the thing wood, biting it in half. "What has that got to do with anythin'?"

"Spike, you love to smoke. The only thing that could make you stop would be something you love even more."

"Yeah? Maybe I've decided to take up Perfume makin' Need my olfactory senses at their very peak for that." Spike pointed out belligerently.

Xander grinned. "Will you go into fashion too? I can just see the look you will cultivate. With specials for Tomboys."

"Are you tryin'to say something to me, boy?"

"Just that you're in love. With George Kirrin."

"Really? Amazin' the things I learn talkin' to you." Spike said morosely

"Oh, I think you know. It's just taken you a while to admit it. And of course she was dead."

Spike groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"How long?" Xander asked sympathetically.

Spike had known it was useless to try and deny anything to the One Who Sees and shrugged, giving in. "How long I've known? The Ball. I think it _happened_ just after we first met…she was so full of fire, so vibrant, so alive…" Spike sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Bloody hell…what am I gonna do?"

"Well…Dinner and a dance come to mind? I believe there's a Remember the Forties gig on somewhere?"

"Very funny. Where is she anyway?"

Xander looked at a large white board on his wall and looked at the bottom row where George's name had been added to the roster of Slayers.

"Ummm…looking into the disappearance of some Wombles under Hyde Park with Buffy and Willow. Some tunnels or something."

Spike spat out his toothpick. "T-Tunnels? Hyde Park? Oh Bloody _hell!_" He was out the door and running before Xander even had a chance to ask him what was wrong. The Director of Operations made a quick call to Giles and then followed the vampire, hoping to find out what was wrong.

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The tunnel was much longer than expected, branching off into more tunnels and opening into panelled rooms and leading ever further down. The wood of the panels was warped by moisture and cold and a smell of death hung starkly in the tunnels, permeating the air and filling the air with a sense of dread. The smell clung to the back of the throat and filled the nostrils, hindering the Slayers' sense of smell and causing Willow to gag on several occasions.

The cold was getting worse and Buffy shivered despite her thick winter coat. She saw that George was less affected, as was Heidi, who's native Germany could be quite cold. But Willow was shivering badly. Of them all Tomsk was doing best, his natural thick fur warding of the chill.

"Damn it…I've never felt a ghostly presence like this. What the hell is down here?" Buffy groused.

"I don't know. I never heard anything about it." George answered and ran her hand down the frost rimed wall. "Bloody cold."

Willow shivered and Buffy moved closer to where the witch was bundled up in a fur lined quilted green anorak. "You look just as cute as you did when you dressed as an Eskimo." She hugged the taller girl and lightly kissed her lips, grimacing as the usual taste of Willow was quite overpowered by the scent and smell of death. "Any ideas Will?"

"Cold." Willow shivered again and burrowed into her girlfriend.

"Can you cast a spell to warm yourself up?"

"Dangerous…Dark energy…almost Hellmouth-y. Not easy to filter out."

Buffy nodded, realising what the witch meant. "And that might awaken your addiction to the Dark again. Damn."

"Yeah." Willow said through chattering teeth.

"Damn…what the hell _is_ down there? It should be getting warmer, not colder as we go down."

George looked worried. "I think we should go back up and find out more about this place."

Buffy shivered. "Yeah…you're right. Place gives me the flying wiggins. Tomsk?"

"This tunnel is far deeper than we thought. We must seek knowledge in the old records. Wellington may be of aid." The large Womble spoke slowly, his eyes continually scanning his surroundings.

"Right. Let's head back up then." Buffy decided.

They turned around to head back up the tunnel when suddenly a terrible wail came from below and a crash from above. The ceiling collapsed and tons of clay and loam fell down, blocking the exit. Buffy paled and drew Willow closer to herself. She reached for her phone and pressed the emergency call button. There was no result.

"Tomsk…do you have any idea how to get out of here?"

The Womble looked at the loam, leaned forward and patted it, then stuck out his tongue and tasted. His grimace was so strong even those unused to Womble expression recognized the disgust. "I think that our best chance may be to find another exit."

Buffy nodded. "I was afraid you were going to say that…I don't suppose your people use exit signs?"

"No. But Bungo leaves trail marks wherever he goes in unknown tunnels. That is one." The big Womble pointed at a bright red crayon mark on the dark wood of a nearby panel.

"Well at least we can follow them…I take it you would have told us if we hadn't been following them?"

"Of course. Shall we move on? Movement might help a little against the cold." The Womble set off, this time leading.

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Xander caught up with Spike as the Vampire was beating on the door of Armoury. "Open up! It's an emergency!"

Xander cleared his throat. "What might the emergency be then?" Giles bustled up at the same time and joined the query.

"Indeed, what is so important?"

Spike groaned. "Hyde Park, there was a loam pit there in the fourteenth century. It was used to dispose of plague sufferers."

Giles nodded. "Ah, you need Hazmat suits? Against contagion?"

Spike gave him a blank look. "They weren't _dead_ when they were disposed of, Watcher."

Xander gulped. Giles winced. "Ah, nasty. How many?"

"Hundreds, probably. One of the biggest Casarua in the world."

"And how do you know this when the Council has no records of the matter?" Giles asked pointedly.

"Council always was fond of the King, eh? Always played nice with the government. The way the Old Man told it he put the Thrall on Edward III and the Archbishop and they ordered a lot of peasants and merchants to be brought here before they were dead, thrown into the quarry and well, instant mystical cesspool of evil energy. The King and the archbishop were horrified later and hushed it up."

"That explains why we don't know, how is it that you do?"

Spike sighed. "The Old man, the Master, it was one of his plans, he was darn proud of it. A damn great pool of evil mystical energy, to be manipulated and abused, right next to, now in the middle of, London." Spike had fallen out of his working class accent and into his upper class one, a sure sign of him being upset.

"So, what do we do?" Xander asked rather diffidently.

"Gonna go in with the big guns, mate. Flamethrowers, bell, book candle. Gallons of Holy water. Wafers. Fragmentation grenades. Anything and everything really."

"Ah. We may need to contact an exorcist." Giles mused.

Xander looked alarmed. "Dawn isn't going to vomit Pea soup and twist her head around, is she?"

Spike snorted. "Knowin' the Slayer the Bit will be topside, poutin'"

"She's got a good pout." Xander pointed out, proudly.

"Yeah." Spike smiled reminiscently. He turned pointedly to Giles. "You gonna tell them to open the bleedin' door?"

Giles blinked and came out of his musing. "Oh, of course." He pressed the intercom button next to the door. "Millie, would you mind opening the door? We need some heavy equipment. And who do we have here right who are trained on using flamethrowers?"

"Buffy and Xander." The intercom answered.

"I can too." Spike added. Giles nodded.

"That give us two flamethrowers, but it would be very risky for you, Spike."

"Worth it. Can't let the Slayers and Red down."

"Spike, a single spark could set you ablaze." Xander pointed out quietly.

"I know how to use a flamethrower." A soft but determined voice came from behind them. Emma Knight, wearing a tight yellow and black cat suit that made Xander and Giles swallow and Spike whistle appreciatively. She smiled slightly.

"Good." The vampire nodded. "That'll save me getting' burned."

"We'll need a magic user, who do we have?" Xander asked as he thought about the roster of witches and warlocks.

"Errr…most of them won't be much use. Kelly is the most powerful one but she is deeply claustrophobic. Timothy and Lesley and Berenice are worn out by casting that Warding. And none of the others are able to filter out dark magic well enough to be risked." He frowned. "Willow will be highly uncomfortable, her former addiction t will make it difficult for her to use whatever energy is down there. The Devon coven is too far away."

"Crap. They're down there without magical back up." Spike said.

The door to the armoury opened and showed the large room beyond, filled with weapons ranging from newly whittled stakes to intricately forged blades to ancient blunderbusses and rocket launchers. An old battered Cromwell tank of World War II vintage sat in the corner of the room, painted white with the cross of St. George on it. Emma blinked at that one.

"Roight. Lets get armed and on the road." Spike started grabbing weapons and lobbing them at people.

Giles went to a large cupboard in the corner to get the bells, books and candles kept there for exorcisms. More sets were in the library. But the Armoury prided itself of having everything needed to fight practically everything. The Chief armourer, an eighteen year old Slayer named Millie who had suffered a terrible injury during the attacks by the First, laming her from the waist down, came driving up in her specially adapted wheelchair, dragging a cart loaded with barrels Flamethrower jelly. The four eleven year olds who had been sent down to her to serve detention were lugging a flamethrower each.

"We only have three people checked out on these Millie." Giles said as he piled three great copies of the _Maleus Maleficarum_ on the table, three huge wax candles and three bronze bells next to them.

"Four. I'm coming with you." Millie said calmly.

"Millie…"

"No, Giles. You need people who can use this if you're up against a Casurua."

"How do you know what we're up against?" Xander asked.

"I kept my end of the intercom open." The wheel-chair bound blonde pointed out dryly. "Now, if everybody has their weapons? Let's roll!"

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Willow was shivering and though the cold was fierce Buffy knew it was more than that. She moved next to her girlfriend and saw the slight tinges of black at the roots of her hair.

"Willow?" She asked worriedly. "How are you holding up?"

"They're trying to get in, Buffy…so many of them…so many voices…so dark…so alone…" Willow shivered. "They're trying to pour the Dark into me…I'm scared, Buffy!" Willow stumbled and blinked and her eyes turned black for a second. "NO! NEVER AGAIN!" Willow gritted her teeth and her eyes became green once more.

Buffy didn't hesitate. She picked up the witch and held her close, while walking swiftly to George. "We need to get Wills out of here. If they get her to go dark, you don't want to see that."

George nodded. "Yeah, I heard stories. Buffy? This place scares me. It's old and evil and full of pain and hate."

"Yeah. We need to book, right now. We are so not prepared for this. Heidi! Stay with the group!" Heidi had wandered off slightly and quickly hurried back.

"Sorry. I thought I felt something. That way." She gestured down a side tunnel.

George and Buffy exchanged looks. Heidi was a good, solid Slayer, but she hadn't shown her special talent yet. Not all Slayers had them, but most did. Sensing was a pretty good one to have.

"What sort of feeling?"

"Err…a bit like Tomsk…but stronger?" Heidi looked confused.

Buffy smiled. "Heidi, when we were up in the Burrow, did you sense the Wombles? As different from humans?"

"Err…I think so?" Heidi looked confused.

"Cool, you can detect non-humans who aren't demons. That may come in useful on occasion. Let's go down there and see if we can't find the source of your feeling." Buffy said cheerfully.

Heidi nodded, happy that she too had a 'special'.

Tomsk looked thoughtful. "I wonder if there is anything holding them there."

Buffy hugged Willow close. "If there is, we'll kick its butt! Come on, Heidi, go in front with George."

George smiled. "Good. Action. I can use a little action.

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They tore past the gates of Hyde Park, pausing only long enough to pick up Dawn and Wellington. They couldn't reach Willow, Heidi or Buffy. George's phone was of course, a broken wreck. And then Spike halted the black van outside a set of gates that led to the rear of a familiar building.

Rupert Giles sat looking at the black varnished gates with some trepidation. "Are you sure we can just waltz in?"

"Yes." Spike said curtly. He opened the window nodded towards the guards and handed one of them an ID. "Call the Steward of the Palace. We've got an emergency." He added in a crisp, precise voice.

The guard blinked at the ID and nodded, reaching for the phone. "Yes, Sir!"

Xander's eyebrows rose. "Do I want to know what's on that?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." Spike said absentmindedly. For some strange reason none of the passengers thought he was joking.

The guard at the gate lifted the heavy barrier by pressing a button after inserting and tuning a key, allowing the car to drive up to the gates proper, where the ID was checked again and then the gates rolled back. The van drove on. "We need to get to the Gallery."

"The Gallery? You want to go look at art at a time like this?" Dawn asked in a cold voice.

Spike rolled his eyes. "No, Bit. That's the site of the old Chapel. And in the old basement, which is still there, is an alternative entrance to the Hyde Park tunnels."

"Oh. Okay." Dawn said slightly ashamed she'd doubted the Vampire.

"And you will be staying in the Gallery." Xander said firmly.

"Excuse me?" Dawn bristled. "The fact you are my _boyfriend_ does not make you the boss of me, Alexander _Lavelle_ Harris!"

"Not. The fact I am the _Director of Operations_ makes me the boss of you during a field operation, Dawn _Frances_ Summers, and the fact that you haven't shown up for a single Combat training in the past six months is the reason you aren't going on this mission!" Xander's single eye was firm and Dawn swallowed and quailed under his glare.

"And we will be talking about those missed training sessions as well." Xander added dryly.

Spike grinned. "He's got you there, Niblett." He parked the car and the other cars followed suit. Emma Knight got out of the van that held the weaponry and looked at the Gallery and the surrounding buildings. She hadn't visited the Palace often, but often enough to note the differences, subtle and not so subtle, to the complex.

She saw Dawn Summers sulkily leave the car and stomp off to the Gallery. The others congregated at the back of the van and started unloading the weaponry. Emma lifted an eyebrow at Giles. "I assume that Miss Summers will not be joining us?"

"Miss Summers has missed far too many training sessions of late." Giles said absentmindedly as he checked a large modified pressure tank that held holy water.

"I haven't had many myself."

"You brought down two Slayers before they took you seriously. I'd say you're qualified." Xander checked a machete and axe and handed a rapier to Emma, who raised an eyebrow.

"Looks like your sort of weapon." He shrugged.

"It is. Thank you."

The group gathered their equipment and set off into the Gallery. A tall man was waiting, in dressing gown and with his grey hair mussed, wearing tartan slippers, woollen socks and a set of dark blue pyjamas stood waiting inside the door. "Sir William, good evening."

Spike waved a lazy hand "Heya Rodney. I need to get into the basement." The vampire replied with a smirk.

The man sighed. "You could learn some of the social niceties, you know." He took a set of keys from the pocket of his nightgown and led them off.

"Know them all, Rod. Not nearly as much fun usin' them as not." Spike smirked.

"You can tell that to Her Majesty once you've re emerged. She'll no doubt want to know what went on under her home."

"Not the home. We need the Dark Tunnel."

Sir Rodney dropped his keys. "What? Whatever for?"

"Three Slayers down there and a Witch. Including _the_ Slayer and _the_ Witch."

"Oh dear." Sir Rodney had picked up his keys and let the group down a narrow cylindrical staircase that ended in a large crypt. He went to a side chapel, opened the dark, rusty gate, let them through, closed the gate and led them behind an ancient and decaying altar. A wooden door, ancient and seeming to emanate evil was behind it, heavily barred and locked. Sir Rodney opened it with difficulty, the locks on the door and the padlocks on the bars resisting due to years of neglect. The door creaked open and the smell of death flowed from the dark tunnel behind it, and an icy cold followed. The electric lights flickered and dimmed.

Spike nodded. "Yeah. That's about what I remember. Everybody got his or her coat? It's a mite cold down there."


End file.
